UH OH wrote some pialbon / landoscar drama yet again
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
snippets â¤ď¸ (english is not my first language, sorry for broken english and mistakes in """slang"""")
Lando knew that Oscar always answered. Thatâs just how he wasâalways kind. Always reliable. Heâd answer him at three in the morning, even when he himself couldnât sleep next to Magui.
Lando didnât know who he was. But he knew who Oscar Piastri was: Oscar Piastri was kind to everyone.
Sometimes he didnât understand why the label of âmental health ambassadorâ had been slapped on him like a garish discount sticker, since he was real bad at emotions sometimes. He knew it.
Couldnât help. Couldnât improve it even though he wanted to. Fucking desperately
Lando was terrified of precisely these kinds of feelings, into which he had now sunk.
He loathed mourning and hated lovingâhe dealt with heartbreak by staring intently into the sea of people until the eyes met his own.
It didnât matter if it was a man, a woman, or another, heâd pull the new person toward him and strip them emotionally and later physically, was a can opener for everyone but himselfâit was, after all, much easier than this kind of freaking agony.
Lando felt a searing pain. He never criedâMax was surprised and worriedâcrying hurt; every damn tear trickled from him like a drop of poison.
Fucking Albon, he thought to himself; they were childhood friends. You know how to hurt me, Alex.
You know, and I know what youâre doing to my lover right now. Fucking Albon, fuck, Lando sighed aloud through clenched lips, and struck the headboard with a hand half-clenched into a fist so hard it hurt. Heâd known it from the startâheâd sensed that something would happen between them. Lando was good at spotting situations like this, good at reading people.
Oscar and Alex were very similar; they were quick-witted and proud, fast and sharp. Both of them were damn lovely, both with eyes so dark you couldnât make out the pupils; they were both such damn philosophers that you never knew what either of them was going to say next. And of course, Alex had charmed him with his self-confidence, and Oscar hadnât realized a thing.
Alex recalled seeing Lando reject Oscar on Osc's birthday. It had been outrageous, even by Lando's standards for relationships, Alex had thought, and had given Oscar a bear hug once the rich boy had disappeared from view.
Their relationship hadn't been hard to guess. Oscar had been expressionless for the rest of the evening, barely managing to get up to greet the people who came to congratulate him. Heâd blamed his sudden fatigue on being drunk, even though the glasses in front of him were full.
The man was too proper. Far too innocent for Monacoâs social circles and Landoâs fuckboy ways, Alex had thought, no matter what Carlos said about him. His heart was on Oscarâs side.
So heâd started playing padel with Oscar every week. Figured it would be nice if the guy had some company other than that grumpy old Mark Webber, whom Alex viewed with even more skepticism than Lando. At least Lando wasnât deliberately deviousâmaybe just a polyamorous personâbut Oscar, in Alexâs opinion, was endearingly clueless, and he wanted him to have a friend by his side who wouldnât lead him around by the nose.
Alex, of course, was now dreadfully wondering if he, too, had been manipulative toward Oscar.
His feelings had slowly grown into lustâhe had begun to flirt deliberately, always feeling a sense of triumph when Oscar blushed and acted shy; my Lord, what a pretty man he was. What thighs, what quiet charisma, and what surprising confidence in bed, a stripping passion before which he himself had been completely swept away.
He knew this about himself; he wasn't sure if he could ever fall in love with a man, but maybe he could develop a crush like thisâyes. Lily guessed that too, smiled knowingly, and supported him. Goddamn, what a lucky relationship he was in.
âDonât be sad,â Alex said quietly, but was careful not to touch Oscar; he knew well when a person needed tenderness, and when they didnât.
Alex doesnât know Lando, Oscar thought as he hurried home. Alex doesnât know what kind of relationship they have. Alex doesnât know how Lando sees him. Alex doesnât realise that trust can be betrayed, even if youâre not in a relationship. Alex doesnât know that Oscar had promised and sworn that he would always talk to Lando about everything, and that now he had broken that promise with his old friend. Alexander Albon doesnât know anything, but heâs a d a m n good kisser, and Oscar would sometimes seek joint custody of Pear, he thought, managing to smile. Alexander doesnât know that no one else matters but him and Lando, he thought, and opened the door to his empty home.
curios why didnt you answer me last night
If possible, Iâd talk to you about it face to face
Iâm checking flights, Lan
I think your answer says it all
Oscar slid down the wall onto the hallway floor, still wearing his outdoor shoes and coat.
Fuck you, Oscar Piastri, he read over and over again on the phone screen.
He sighed so hard it made a whoosh.
What the fuck else did he have to put up with?
Through his tears, he looked around his apartment, which wasnât a home.
Grief turned the lifeless Monegasque apartment into a mosaic-like stained-glass window
Fuck you, Lando told him. It was over, he thought, letting his phone slip from his hand and covering his face with his hands.
Fuck you, he repeated in his mind.
Fuck you for fucking up my world championship.
Fuck you for leaving me like this.
Fuck you for leaving me alone, even though Iâd do anything for you.
He picked up his phone resolutely, wiped away the heaviest tears, and typed in a fit of rage.
Fuck you Lando Norris for never loving me
you only love your own dick
fuck you for having multiple lovers while Iâm not allowed to have anyone
fuck you for never putting me first
